was tired of games, tired of lies.
“It is hardly a punishment, habiba. Not when we both know what we want.”
Chapter Three
GENIE couldn’t stop the tremor that slid along her spine. But was it the excitement of what he offered her with the temples, or the thrill of knowing that with one word she would share his bed again?
No. She would not do so. Could not.
“Not everything we want is good for us,” she said. “Bacon double cheeseburgers with chili-cheese fries, for instance. All that fat and cholesterol.” She was babbling, for God’s sake, but she couldn’t seem to help it.
Zafir merely shot her that sexy grin that had always been her undoing. “Do you or do you not want the exclusive right to excavate the temples?” he said silkily. “No other archaeologist has ever been allowed to do so.”
Genie swallowed. With one kiss he’d stolen her breath, her sense, her will. She’d turned into a needy animal, wanting—no, craving—what he offered. If he’d pushed her down on the carpets there and then and lifted her abaya, she’d have been helpless to refuse.
It was only when he’d stopped kissing her, when she’d realized they were in what must be his private tent, that she’d asked herself what the blazes she was doing. She’d been about to negate ten years of her life with that single act. To propel herself back in time and into the arms of the man she’d never really stopped loving.
Never depend on a man, Genie. Make your own career, your own life, and find a partner to share it with. But don’t give up your goals for him. Because he might just leave you with nothing but broken dreams in the end.
Genie shivered. Her mother had said those words to her so often that she could repeat them in her sleep. Zafir was exactly the kind of man her mother had warned her about.
She’d loved him, but he hadn’t loved her. She’d realized it that night when he’d asked her to come to Bah’shar. She’d thought he was asking her to marry him, but she’d been confused because he hadn’t said the words. He’d never said he loved her, had always pushed aside questions of his feelings with more kisses and more lovemaking. And just when she’d thought he’d asked her to share his life, her dreams had been crushed into dust by the realization that he was expected to marry another.
It had been cruel, too ironic, that she should find herself in the situation of loving a man who could never marry her.
She’d known his culture was different, that what he asked was not wrong or immoral to him and his world, but there had been no way on earth she could subject herself to the humiliation. She’d seen firsthand what loving a man who would never be yours did to a woman.
To her mother.
And she was not about to endanger her heart and her hard-earned independence by falling into bed with Zafir bin Rashid al-Khalifa ever again.
“I want the commission, Zafir. But not at the price you’re asking.”
“And what price is that, Genie? I am asking you to share my bed—something you’ve done many times before.” He paused, let his gaze slide down her body. “Or have I erred? Do you have a lover? Someone to whom you wish to be faithful?”
She dropped her eyes from his and shook her head. She should lie, but she found she could not. “There is no one right now.”
“Then there can be no problem, can there?”
What could she say? Yes, there is a problem! The problem is that I still care for you and I’m afraid what will happen if I succumb to my desire instead of listening to my head!
“The answer is still no, Zafir.”
His gaze was laser-sharp. “You would really give up this commission for something so simple?”
“It’s not simple in the least, and you know it.”
“Why is that, I wonder?” He closed the distance between them, tilted her chin up with a finger. “It is simply sex between two adults who want each other. How can there be a problem with that?”
“I’ve traveled this road with you before, Zafir. I’m not prepared to do it again.”
“And I thought you would sell your soul to the devil himself for the sake of your career.”
“That’s not fair and you know it. It wasn’t my career that ruined it between us.” Her breath caught at the silky stroking of his fingers along her jaw.
Apprehension whispered over her like a caress as he smiled. “No, but you will share my bed again. Willingly, eagerly, and without hesitation. I guarantee it.”
Genie awoke in the middle of the night, shivering. For a moment she didn’t know where she was. But then it all came crashing back.
The desert. Zafir. Shock. Desire. Anger. Hurt.
Loneliness.
She sat up, her eyes adjusting to the dim light from the brazier in the middle of the tent. She lay on a large feather mattress, piled high with furs, but she’d somehow managed to kick them all away in the night.
Reaching for a fur, she realized there was a large shape in the bed with her. A man.
Zafir.
He’d left her here last night, telling her to get some sleep. She’d thought she might be shown to her own tent, but he’d informed her there was no other place to go—unless she wanted to go to Sheikh Abu Bakr’s harem.
She definitely did not.
So she’d climbed into this bed and fallen asleep, never realizing he’d returned. And she could clearly see what the problem was now that he was here. Zafir had always stolen the covers.
She tugged the fur away, putting as much distance between them as possible.
“What is wrong, Genie?” he asked, his voice gravelly with sleep.
“You took the covers.”
“Never.”
She could almost laugh if this situation weren’t so surreal. Because he’d always denied stealing the covers when she’d awakened in the night in his apartment.
“It’s a bad habit of yours, and you know it.”
His laugh sent heat spiraling through her. “So you have always said. My wife said the same, so perhaps it is true.”
Now, why was her heart throbbing at the thought of another woman knowing him so intimately? It wasn’t a surprise, after all. A wife would notice those things. She didn’t bother asking which wife.
He propped himself on an elbow. There was the gulf of the bed between them, but still it felt too intimate to be here like this. Too right and too wrong at the same time.
“Has there been anyone special in your life?”
